Minion Horde Raiding Party Leader
My Minion Raiding Party kicked your butt
My Minion Raiding Party can beat up your Minion Raiding Party
My Minion Raiding Party stole all my clothes
Official John Doe Fanclub Member
I survived the great Bloodout of 2011...with only minor withdrawal symptoms
Limited Edition Elphaba Trading Card for 6 Year Anniversary
Best RP August 2014
Best RP July 2015
Celebrating Nine years of Bloodletting - October 2015
2015 Bloodies Figurine ~ Most Missed Character
2015 Bloodies Figurine ~ Saddest Character Death
Best RP May 2016
Best RP September 2017
2017 Winter Bloodies ~ Best Angel
2017 Winter Bloodies ~ Best Character Background
2017 Winter Bloodies ~ Best Couple
2018 Summer Bloodies - Best Angel
2018 Summer Bloodies - Most Adored
2018 Summer Bloodies - Best Couple
Best RP October 2018
I Celebrated Christmas 2018 in the Realm
2019 Summer Bloodies - Saddest Death

Quinn Abernathy's Biography

Lie stacked upon lie, Quinn Abernathy found herself in a strange limbo of her own creation. Incapable of rejoining society, without support, and unable to let go, she would take steps necessary to do what is best for her family. A note, left upon the door of her New York cabin, for Tiber Loche. The inside would be left cleaned, the small round table within laden with photographic gifts to him and little trinkets that had served as a reminder of their time together. That is all she had left to do, before packing up and making her way to her field of dreams.

Wyoming had always been the disallowed means to an end, the thoughtful safe haven that had never been theirs. There, in the country, Quinn would live on - raising Sam and Finn with books, and earth, and stars.

Once again Tiber's thick thumbs paused over they virtual letters on the phone. His jaw set tight while his eyes scrolled past the words over and over again. No simple expression could encompass what he was feeling, or how heavy the blow was to the pit of his stomach. Tiber felt like it's contents were going to spill onto the hotel floor, but he chokes his nerves back down and tightens his fingers into a hard fist to keep his hands from shaking.

Quinnie
Wow Quinnie, that's amazing! We're so happy for you. Gideon must be ecstatic. Everyone has a past. I'm sure Tiber knows that you don't blame him for what happened...

Jameson has been tasked. Well, it's not really a task, per say. More like, some smelly werewolf who lives in the mansion upstairs had insisted that he take these odd looking severed heads and deliver each of them to a respective patron. The Doctor doesn't quite understand why, but he doesn't actually care in the least. Tiberius, as he had introduced himself, had paid him a pretty penny to see that the deed got done.

Whatever. It worked in his favor.

He doubted that the mutt had expected him to put his own spin on the delivery, however. Jameson waited until the guy fled to go out and find some pretty pink boxes. White ribbons would accompany the painted cardboard- tied at the top into fancy, frilly bows. There's no way that any unsuspecting victim would come to realize what was actually inside of the box until it had been delivered.

Deranged doesn't even begin to encompass Jameson Orlav. To each person he drops off a box. While they're away, of course. His last encounter inside the house had brought immediate trouble for Ella. He would look to avoid that this time, if it was possible.

To Gideon, Quinn, and Ella herself. Inside each of their rooms they'd find a box. For Quinn and Gideon, their room would house two.

For Quinn;
The second head saw bare lips, eyelids naked but with full rouge. With his fingers, Tiber smeared the cream over the hollowed cheeks of the woman, imitating a full scarlet blush. This head was going to Quinn Harper. The only woman who had ever succeeded in making him whole. Quinn always pulled warmth from within the icy pits of him. She gave his life purpose, and chipped away at him until all that was left was love and affection.

And yo, there's no sign that Jameson has been here. Just so we're clear. Let's all relax on the coronary front for now.

Tiber reread text many times after it had come in on his phone. At first he thumbs a fast reply. Okay. Always ready to do as Quinn pleased. A simple word communicated from her and he could be gone. But it's not that easy. He's not as strong as the urges inside of him. He isn't as formidable as the other half of his existence that continuously fought for or dominance over his body and his mind.

The next reply was longer, and more defiant. I can't, and I won't. Tiber deleted that one, too, after threatening to crush the phone beneath the brute strength of his bare hands. It takes him hours to decide whether he would respond. It would be easier if he didn't. His fight has almost burned out entirely, flickering heartily from both ends of the stick.

Almost.

Quinn
I can't stop him, Quinn.

There is no universe that exists where Quinn wouldn't understand what he meant. Somehow he would need to find a way to convey that remaining out of sight was the best that he could do to keep her safe. For now. But there was no place for him to hide. There never had been.

We're not going to waste any time on the 'how's. Straight to the point, was that Quinn would arrive back in her room. Wherever it was that she was staying, because honestly it did not matter.

Where Quinn Harper went, Tiber was never far behind. Even if he was, like a ghost over her shoulder, he was there.

When she arrived, she'd find a note folded delicately upon her pillow. It would be easy to overlook since the creamy color of the paper blended with the pale fabric of the pillowcase. A messy scrawl on the inside would be identifiable right away.

Don't forget me.
I'm sorry.

Tiber could do his best to try and stop Quinn from whatever it was she was about to do.
But he owed her this. Her freedom.

He can smell her before she's even approached him. Tiber knew Quinn was here. It had everything to do with his decision to seek out Ella Donovan in the first place. He was unsure of the way Quinn would react, but it bore no weight against the decision he had made to find her and be with her. There is a sense in which Quinn knew this, of that Tiberius could be sure. It was only a matter of time before she reached out in one respect or another. Good or bad.

And here she was.

Quinn's scent is still as intoxicating as Tiber remembers, the very essence of her igniting an eagerness inside of him and consuming his body in a blaze. But his elation is extinguished as quickly as it had arisen, as the shaky unsurety of Quinn's voice sticks a pin through the heart of his jest. The man had expected nothing less, but her eternal heartbreak would never upset him any less than the first day he had come to recognize both fear and anguish behind her once beloved stare.

Because of him.

"Quinn..." Tiber breathes life into the only word that could swell his heart. A sensation that would never beseech him. Though she refuses to meet his eyes with the soft light of her own, he still gazes down upon her, studying all of the things about her that had changed. Her shoulders seemed more square. She stood taller, and with more conviction than before. Had she become harder? Did Tiberius manage to break her spirit?

Of all worldly possibilities, that could not be true.

"Quinn, look at me." It is a simple demand, soft but firm. Tiber is more unsure than ever about Quinn's reception. But no matter her reaction, nothing would surprise him.

~*~ Ella had started to find a minuscule of entertainment at the number of creases in her ceiling. It was this moment she realized that she needed her own people in her sanctuary. The Order had all the people she knew, except for a very select few. She reactivated her Tinder page, and changed the About Me to reflect what she was looking for exactly. She needed a second hand person to be with her. That wouldn't mind her questionable obsession about Jameson Orlav. The friendly face lights up on her screen. Quinn? She looked nice. Grinning she swiped right. Only hoping that perhaps this nice looking Quinn would think she looked nice too. ~*~

For prose that soars higher than the pines, but stays true to it's roots. For daring to branch out where few writers would ever go. For true horticultural excellence. I bestow upon you the coveted Gold Star!